


Goatbane's Revenge

by Zoya1416



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Cetas Hate Barrayar, Evil Barrayaran Plants, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1267099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya1416/pseuds/Zoya1416
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A company of Cetagandans has its medical supplies destroyed. To make it through, they must try the unthinkable--folk remedies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goatbane's Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Characters and all are LMB's.

“So how did you hear this?” said Ivan.

“Oh, not so much heard, well a little heard, at an embassy dinner once, and found out myself. From not very classified sources you could have researched. Listen up, it's a long story.”

“Miles...”

Ghem-General Rond Rau could care less about the scientific goals of the Barrayaran war. All he was focused on was the sunlight, the pain, and the loss of his poems. The hideous sunlight would persist for another eight hours because it was summer. This miserable piss-pot had eighteen hours sunlight then. Eta Ceta's entire day-night rotation was 19 hours. He was coughing and sneezing because of the deadly native Barrayaran plants. He was in pain because a sniper's bullet had missed him, but blew apart the rocks over him. He'd fallen, uniform ripped away, and broken some ribs and his ankle. 

Much worse was the loss of the cycle poems, which he had planned to complete at home. He'd hoped that sometime one might be read by the emperor. They'd been in his uniform.

Cetagandans were given internal Mela-XS to adapt to any diurnal cycles, and allergy preventives, too. And to be out of pain medication was a ludicrous idea. 

But two super-heavy re-supply fliers in a row had been shot down, another forced down and raided by the Barrayarans, and every damned thing they needed was scarce. THEN their own medical headquarters were also raided. 

That was three months ago. The days had lengthened into hell. There were new plants, or bugs, or something else they were allergic to, which their treatments didn't cover. No allergy meds in camp--they had been part of the re-supply.They were actually back to stone age medicine, cutting up soft bed covers for slings and bandages. 

The pharmacist's aide, a 17 year old 0-1, was the only medical survivor. He was hoarding the last few pain-killers for major wounds. 

“Miles, will you get to the point!”  
“Setting the stage, Ivan, setting the stage.”

The Ghem-general lay on his camp mattress, a mask over his head, trying to convince himself it was nighttime, trying to start even a single line to capture the loss, confusion and unyielding pain. “The sun-bronzed sky, searing bister grass. The acid wind cycle unsheathes but does not say death.” Bah, a child's work. His ADC, the only other officer left, awoke him from a doze.

“Teji Setti has to be demobbed, sir.”

“Oh?” He could barely focus.

“He shot his own foot with a plasma arc. Very neatly, too, sliced it a little higher than the toes.”

Hm. Setti was the best sniper in the company. 

Ghem-lieutenant Okita sighed. “He said it was because the sun was talking to him. Maybe that's true, but he can't come back. It might be us next time.”

“Yes.”

“Fucking wasteland!”

“Yes.”

“Sir--”Okita hesitated-- "the O-1 has been testing the native plants--looking for pain and allergy control."

“Brave man.”

“He studied ancient pharmacy once, and remembered a pain reliever that came from a tree. He's been testing some plants the hillmen mentioned, well, mentioned when we interrogated them. He started analyzing plants and found one. He's got it distilled, sir. He took some himself and he's fine.”

The Ghem-general tried to suppress the disorientation. He couldn't repress a sneeze, though, which sent blinding flashes through his ribs.

“Shouldn't have taken it himself.”

“He's using goatbane, sir, but it doesn't kill them. Goats. It makes them feel so little pain that they let sores and injuries go. We tried it on the goats, then on the men. Then it made Naru feel the same way.”

“Give me some. You have command if I die.”

First distilled with a primitive steamer and a charcoal fire, goat-bane extract was gloriously effective, almost as good as morphine, and extremely cheap to produce. 

 

“Why haven't I ever heard of this?”

Miles bared his teeth and continued:

“Goatbane was included in every soldier's pack from then on, and everyone knew how to field extract it. Many thousands of men used it during the war.

“The O-1, Jahar Naru, received an Order of Merit on return to Eta Ceta.

“It was a full thirty years later when another effect of Goatbane became known. It produced a single amino acid change in a protein catalyst. The gene copied itself over several different chromosomes, which weren't expressed until the soldiers' children were adult.

“Come on! ” Ivan insisted to Miles. “You've drawn this out long enough.” 

“As it turns out, it was the gene lactase which was affected, and then only in adults...they get stomach distress when they drink any milk.”

“Like—pain? Or—no, you did NOT tell me this elaborate story for a fart joke! Is that it?”

Miles grinned. 

“You made this all up!”

“Not exactly. Mia Maz Vorob'yev still messages me sometimes. She told me she heard a Cetagandan fart once at a dinner, and realized they were drinking Thai iced tea—you know—with evaporated milk.”

Miles avoided a thrown boot. 

“Truly! It's hard to be perfectly post-human when you break wind at an embassy dinner. She said that the embassy tries to slip in as much milk as possible. They can take a pill, but so far haven't been able to extract the gene. It hops around a lot. And hillmen told me about goatbane.”

“And the assistant pharmacist?”

“Read up on it yourself. It's in open sources now. He did work on goatbane, and he got an Order of Merit." 

“I suppose it isn't possible to rescind one?”

“Not when the recipient has gone on to a brilliant career in biochemistry. I'll bet he gets very cranky when you mention it, though.”


End file.
